


Hushabye Mountain

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Caretaking, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new friend from earth sings a lullaby to cheer up Thorin Oakenshield's company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hushabye Mountain

The company of Thorin Oakenshield were a subdued group as they bedded down for the night in a small grove of trees. The rocky ground, still damp from a day of intermittent rain, offered few comfortable places to lie, and the watery soup that passed for supper had fallen short of filling anyone’s belly. You sat alone by the meager fire as a volunteer for the first watch, knowing that the dwarves, with their heavy weapons and chivalrous refusals of your help, were wearier still, and that this lumpy patch of earth would afford you little sleep anyway.

The elation of glimpsing the Lonely Mountain at last from the company’s vantage point on the carrock had faded as wretched weather set in along with the sobering realization that most of your supplies had been lost in the goblin tunnels. The bruises and welts and sore muscles that served as souvenirs of the battle to escape were making themselves felt, and there were no jokes, no songs, no hints of merriment, only dejected silence while your companions settled themselves to sleep and you poked absentmindedly at the fire with a stick.

Your part in the adventure had begun weeks ago on the dark night when an unexpected hairpin curve had sent your car skidding off of an icy road into a ditch, plunging you into an unconsciousness from which you woke to find yourself in a strange world, in the care of fifteen of the most unusual good Samaritans you could have imagined. Even Gandalf couldn’t be sure exactly how you had arrived or how to send you back, and you’d had no choice but to join the company as they traveled through the vast wilderness in which they’d found you alone and bewildered.

Despite their natural wariness of foreigners, the dwarves were kind at heart and fiercely loyal, and their initial sense of obligation to take you under their collective wing had slowly grown into genuine, and mutual, fondness. You were often torn between longing for the comforts of home and affection for your new friends, and time spent spotting wildflowers with Bifur, joking with Bombur while you helped with the cooking, or talking with Ori about his beloved books had become as precious to you as the memory of hot showers and clean clothes.

Now, your heart ached to see the company exhausted, battered, demoralized by the setbacks they seemed to encounter at every turn of their journey. The dancing flames mesmerized your tired eyes as you stared into their flickering warmth, and it wasn’t until Bofur spoke up from beneath his hat, pulled low over his eyes as he lay on his back, that you realized you’d begun to hum quietly along with your meditations.

“What’s that tune, lass?” His voice had sunk to a lethargic drawl.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

His hand moved vaguely in the dusk, waving off your apology. “No, it’s a beauty. What is it?”

A nostalgic smile crept over your face. “It’s a song from a m-” you paused, a small, rueful chuckle escaping your lips as you abandoned the idea of trying to explain a movie to them. “It’s a song I always liked when I was a little girl…sort of a lullaby.”

“Begging your pardon, but it seems to me a lullaby would go down nicely tonight,” Dori ventured, and a few low murmurs of encouragement rippled over the camp.

“Come on, then, gal, let’s be having it,” Bofur urged pleasantly.

You looked instinctively to Thorin where he reclined against a large rock, and in the shadowy twilight saw the small inclination of his head in assent.

With a bracing nod, you cleared your throat and returned your gaze to the fire as you began to sing softly:

_A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain_  
_Softly blows over Lullaby Bay._  
 _It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,_  
 _Waiting to sail your worries away._  
 _It isn’t far to Hushabye Mountain_  
 _And your boat waits down by the quay._  
 _The winds of night so softly are sighing_  
 _Soon they will fly your troubles to sea._  
 _So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain._  
 _Wave good-bye to cares of the day._  
 _And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain_  
 _Sail far away from Lullaby Bay_.

The last notes died away, and all was quiet but for a few gentle snores from the first among you to succumb to sleep. Darkness fell in earnest, and your eyes strayed from the fire to the blaze of stars above you, like diamonds scattered on a velvet sky draped over the mountain peaks, and despite your fatigue, a small smile bloomed on your lips. After all, there were worse places than Middle Earth to be stuck.

It seemed only minutes before Fili’s hand nudged your shoulder, ready to relieve you of the watch, and you picked your way carefully between your slumbering companions to an empty spot. You paused here and there as you went, gently smoothing the blankets and coats that served as makeshift bedcoverings for your friends. Even Dwalin, who still rarely bestowed you with more than the odd grunt by way of conversation, would wake in the morning to find that his cloak had been tucked snugly around his chin, and when you were satisfied that everyone was as comfortable as this unforgiving wilderness would allow, you huddled into your own coat in the sparse shelter of a tree, looking up once more to the sparkling stars with hope in your heart.

Whatever tomorrow might bring, there were definitely worse places to be stuck.


End file.
